The She-Wolf
by out.of.sea.into.woods
Summary: Lyanna Stark was never meant to change the world. She was a simple, wild girl from Winterfell with a pretty face and a torn skirt. But in the end, her life would shape the future of Westeros in ways she could never have imagined.
1. Prologue - And More

Lyanna Stark was born in the last throes of a long winter. Though the snow was fierce when she took her first breath, within a few months spring had come even to the North, and when the child opened her eyes for the first time, the winter roses bloomed.

Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra rejoiced in their wonder of a daughter. Their sons, the brash five year old Brandon and Eddard, who was still quiet at the age of four, would soon leave Winterfell to be fostered in some other home. But Lyanna would stay and occupy her parents' time and thoughts. And occupy them, she did. In her early years, Lynna proved to be just as rough and headstrong as her brother.

"She'll never marry," Lyarra complained one night to her husband as they sat in their chambers, her fingers working furiously along another mud stained, torn dress of Lyanna's. "She will end up as some wilding, eating dirt and wearing deer skins for clothes."

"She's just a girl," Rickard sighed, rubbing his temples. "She'll grow."

"Too headstrong," Lyarra murmured. "Too much wolfblood."

"Enough of this." Rickard commanded sternly. Lyarra went silent, the only sounds were the soft shifting of threads. Then, looking to the fire that blazed softly, she said, "Oh, but she'll never be pretty. I can see it, she'll never be a beauty."

"She's a Stark." Rickard assured her. "She will be all the beauty of Winter and more."


	2. Chapter 1 - Eddard

"Lyanna!"

I hold my breath, covering my mouth with my hand to dispel the fog. The leaves of the godswood rustle ever so slightly, making me pull my cloak a little closer to my body. A crow caws obscenely above my head.

_If you give me away,_ I think murderously. _I will be wearing feathers to dinner tonight_. The crow, nonplussed, decides to flutter away with one last screech. Old Nan, however, seems to not notice and shuffles past me and out of the godswood quickly. I let out a nervous breath. Alone again.

I step out from behind the cluster of trees slowly, my dress making soft noises against the grass. The air is chilled, but not as bad as it was yesterday. Some of the smallfolk speak of spring, but Father scoffs at that. "Winter is coming, child," he admonishes me. He seems to forget that, at least with us, winter is _always_ coming.

The heart tree stands stills as ever before the black pool, not a ripple in sight, despite the wind. I stand before the deep-cut face, taking in deep, biting breaths. I remember little Ned, his eyes huge in his head. "The gods are in that tree," he swore in a way only a boy can.

"I think it's just a stupid old face!" Brandon jested, throwing a rock at Ned's head.

"Shut up!" I had argued. I promptly picked up a stick and chased him round the godswood till Old Nan came out and beat us all about the ears.

_Ned thought you were foreboding_, I tell the heart tree. _Brandon thought you were a joke. And Benjen- who knows?_ But I thought it was kinder than that, our heart tree. I thought the face was laughing, if somewhat restrained. But still, smiling at least. I held out a hesitant hand, contemplating touching the strange face.

"Lady Lyanna!" A hoarse voice called out. I looked up and could see Maester Walys, his bald head shining like the chains around his neck as they dangle in the cold sunlight. His face is wrinkled and agitated. "You might as well come in now. Your brother just arrived!"

"Which one?" I call out. Walys' beady eyes lock on to me instantly.

"The good one!" He replies in a huff and disappears.

_So that'll be Ned_, I think with a smile. Walys always thought Brandon had a little too much heat in his blood. I give one last, fond look to the heart tree, and race off, hiking my skirts up mid-thigh.

I cut through the armory, all dark and smelling of leather and dust, to meet Ned at the East Gate. A few horses, laden with rolls of clothes and weapons, are attended by a few squires. Amongst them, a dark haired young man gives out quiet orders.

"Eddard!" I cry out, mud splattering my stockings. Ned turns around and his cold eyes brighten with surprise. I throw my arms around him and nearly knock him over with the force of my embrace. But I find his body harder, leaner than when he last visited.

"Lyanna." His arms wrap around my shoulders and I feel his hand cup my head. I close my eyes and smile, revelling in his scent. It's of roads and winds and I love it.

"Lyanna." He repeats. "Lyanna, don't you think you should've- er… Held yourself-"

"Oh shut up, Ned." I pull away, smiling. His face is that of a man and while he'll never be quite as handsome as Father or Brandon, his smile is genuine and his heart is in his eyes. "If I wanted a lecture on how to behave like a lady, I would've talked to Mother."

He smiles. "How are you?"

"_Bored_." I roll my eyes. "But better now that you're here." I see the squires carrying huge piles of weapons into the castle. I raise an eyebrow. "I see the Eyrie keeps its wards well protected."

"I figured we might need- eh, re-stocking." Ned's eyes shift and he tugs at his cloak awkwardly. I glare at him and I'm about to say something when I hear Father's heavy footsteps behind me.

"Eddard." I turn around and almost run into Father's chest. His voice is like stone- steady and cold. Although past his prime, Father is still a mountain of a man, broad too. His beard is thick and pure white, as is his hair. His grey eyes betray no emotion. I back away and allow Ned to face Father.

Ned is still a head shorter than Father, being forced to look up at him. Ned's eyes show the slightest hint of fear, but it is swallowed up by a look of stony confidence that makes him look more of a Stark. "Father." Ned holds out an arm. After a moment's pause, Father takes it and shakes it slowly.

"I am pleased you are here." Father's face doesn't change, but his voice is just a degree warmer. "Was your journey enjoyable?"

"Yes, Father. Thank you."

"Good. Brandon will be here soon. I'll have your things brought to your room." Father turns and rests his eyes on me. "Lyanna." He looks down to my dirty hem, but says nothing and strides back into the castle.

"Well, well, well." I say once he's gone. "I thought he might start singing a ditty and dancing around the courtyard."

"Shove off." Ned gives me a grin and, throwing an arm around my shoulder, guides me inside.

The Great Hall of Winterfell is warm and laughter, for the first time in a while, resounds off the wall while Ned hugs Benjen tightly.

"I'm so glad you're home!" Benjen, his voice still going through the shaky journey to manhood, smiles up at Ned. "It's so much better when you and Brandon are here."

"What, Lyanna isn't much fun?" Ned says quietly.

"She's always off riding." Benjen complains.

"And when I'm not, I'm beating you at sword fighting." Ned laughs out loud while Benjen hotly denies it.

"Better be careful, Lyanna." Ned warns me, ruffling Benjen's hair. "If Mother finds out you've been handling a sword-"

"She'll be no less disappointed in me than she already is." I say with a huff, running my fingers through my knotty hair. Ned smiles sweetly and says nothing.

"When do we leave for the tourney?" Benjen breaks the silence.

"Tomorrow at dawn." I say. "Brandon should be here by nightfall, but if he's late-"

"Are you _sure_ I can't compete?" Benjen says to Ned, his eyes pleading. Ned opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the great wooden doors opening to Mother, taking steady steps toward us.

"Eddard." She smiles and opens her arms to him.

"Mother." He slowly approaches her and embraces her, kissing her aged cheek. My rebelliousness and the harsh winters have not been kind to her and her face is deeply lined, and her once dark hair is now streaked with snowy silver.

She smiles at Ned. "I am so pleased that you're here, even for a day."

"When will Brandon get here?" Benjen cuts in.

"He just arrived." She says, and Benjen takes off running. Shaking her head fondly, she turns back to Ned and asks, "How is Lord Arryn?"

"Well. He'll meet us at Harrenhal."

"Good," She pats his shoulder. "You must be tired from your journey. Go to your room and rest- I'll fetch you for dinner." Mother casts a disapproving glance to my gown. "And you, Lyanna, please _bathe_ before then." She leaves in silence, except for the sound of her gown against the stone floor.

"Exit the queen." I sigh and slump into one of the long benches. "Ugh, a bath means I have to get ready _now_."

"Ah, the torturous life of a lady." Ned muses. "More dangerous than anything any lord will ever face."

"Not that there's anything truly dangerous about being a lord nowadays."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Ned murmurs.

"Ned?" I ask him. He shakes his head, as if freeing his mind from cobwebs.

"Don't fret about it. Besides," A soft smile warms his face. "You have a bath to attend to."


	3. Chapter 2 - Foolish

We all sit in the Great Hall, laughing and talking. All the men along the benches, cheering to the good health of "the Stark Wolves." Father shook his head at this, but Brandon found it hysterical and howled all night long. At least, until Benjen began to copy him and Mother scolded them both in front of the whole party. Brandon may be a man at 19, but his mother could still nag him like a child.

I stifled a laugh. Mother seems to be tolerating me since I managed to clean up, and even dressed in a stain free dress. My hair is plaited away from my face and I catch many of the men giving me sideways glances, though I have no idea why.

Father stands and instant silence falls. He raises his glass and says in his booming voice, "I thank you all for joining me here tonight. We are most blessed to have all four of my children with us tonight." Father casts us all an approving glance and all four of us sit up, just a degree straighter. "For that, I thank to old gods. Tomorrow, they leave for Harrenhal and I pray they will return home safely."

"And in one piece!" A man in the back yells. I figure Father will scowl for the interruption, but he only nods solemnly, which makes me confused.

Father goes on saying, "As you all know, my daughter, Lyanna, has recently turned sixteen."

"And no sweeter maid has ever been seen." I hear a man whisper too loudly, earning a stern glare from Father, but my heart is in my throat, thinking of why Father be mentioning me now. The blood in my ears is pounding so loud, I think everyone must hear its roar.

"She has now become of marrying age." As he says this, my heart leaps to my throat. "And so, I am pleased to announce her engagement to Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End!"

Immediately, the room bursts into hearty cheers and clapping. Ned turns to me, smiling broadly. Mother is clapping too, tears brimming. Brandon holds his cup in the air and shouts out a toast. Father looks pleased, clapping with restraint.

I stand up quickly.

The clapping dies slowly, everyone looking at me expectantly, like I should say something. How I'm grateful for such a wonderful opportunity, a rich and powerful husband, grateful to my father for securing such a profitable match. Father looks at me, confused, but not angry.

I clench my fists so hard, I think I might draw blood. "_I will not marry Robert Baratheon_!" And I storm out of the Great Hall, every eye boring into my back as I push open the great wooden doors and race up to my room.

I have met Lord Baratheon on one occasion, when he, Ned, and Lord Arryn came to visit. I had no doubt he was blisteringly smitten with me, as he was sweet and gentle in his own way. But one night, Robert got blisteringly drunk and must've mistaken me for a whore. Or at least, that's what I hope, for he slapped my rear end and then unbuttoned his pants, displaying his manhood and shouting how one ride on _that_ would be better than any horse I had ridden. Thank the gods Ned or Father weren't around, it was just Benjen, and so only Benjen saw me smash a jug into Robert's head. Both of us had to drag him back to his rooms and that was not a pleasent experience in it of itself. Robert, hungover and sullen, came on my morning ride the next day to apologize, and while I can forgive a man for one drunken night, the news of his whoring and his bastard children make me loathe to accept him as my husband.

I reach my room and slam the door behind me. Father is probably right on my heels, and will be furious. So I'll have to be calm. I force myself to breath deeply, smoothing out the wrinkles of my gown.

Father explodes into the room with Mother trailing behind him. "How _dare_ you!" His voice makes the wall shake and my resolve almost breaks, but I stand firm and look him right in the eye.

"I will not be made Robert's whor-"

"You will do as _I_ say as long as you are _my_ daughter. How dare you defy me in front of my men! How dare you-"

"Robert is a drunkard and a fool!" I spit at him, refusing to back down, refusing to break eye contact. Father's face turns red.

"He is Lord of the Stormlands and a valuable ally of Winterfell. He is Eddard's-"

"He has sired enough bastards to take King's Landing with, and if you expect me to be a Baratheon whore, you're a bigger fool than him!"

That's when the slap comes, fiery and sure, and while I expect it, that doesn't stop me from crumpling to the ground with a cry, my cheek burning. Father stands above me imperiously, all the frost of winter in his eyes. _Oh Father_, I think softly. _I wish I could do this for you- but I won't_.

"You will travel to Harrenhal with your brothers in the morn. You will meet your betrothed there and you will do your duty as a Stark." His voice is heavy as stone and his body is rigid, hardened with rage. I say nothing, only glare at him. He does not flinch. I am the one to look away, and with that, he leaves without a word.

Mother paces around my room for a bit, starting sentences but never finishing them. She wrings her hands in frustration. A few times, she comes close to me and makes to slap me. I don't flinch, but she never manages to follow through. After half an hour, she simply leaves without a word.

I am left alone in the dark cold. Old Nan scurries in silently and lights a fire, but leaves as quickly as she comes in. The fire offers no warmth to me. I am suddenly aware of the tightness of my dress, of the tension of my scalp, of the burning of my face. I grab my blankets and bury my face in then, screaming into them. But it's pointless. I curl up in my bed, feeling cold and angry. I don't know why I try to do these things, don't know why I'm so bloody foolish sometimes. There was no point making a scene, no point arguing. Why can't I just go along with what cannot be changed?

Someone opens the door and I look up, suddenly aware of the wetness of my eyes. It's Ned, holding a rag in his hands and looking positively awkward. I give him a soft smile.

"I heard- well, the entire household heard. I thought you could use this." Eddard comes close and, sitting across from me, presses the cloth against my face. Damp and cool, I felt the burning edges of Father's slap soften. Me and Ned sit in silence for a while, looking everywhere but each other.

Eventually, Ned says, "Robert is a good man."

"I'm sure."

"He's strong and brave and courageous." Ned went on. "He loves you dearly, and you will have healthy sons together."

"And his whoring? His drinking? He already has a bastard daughter in the Eyrie, and yet you think he'll be satisfied in my bed?" Ned opens his mouth to argue, but I keep going. "I don't hold the bastard against him- the fact that he acknowledges her speaks of his character- but I- I…" I look at my hands and sigh. "I was foolish. I shouldn't have embarrassed father like that."

"You were upset."

"I was foolish." I press the cloth to my eye, wincing. "I know my place, I know my duty, but-" I frown, not knowing what to say. Ned just nods slowly. Silence creeps in on us gently.

"He does love you," Ned says. "I believe it. He'll change, once you're married. He'll be the husband you desire."

I smile and shake my head. Stupidly honorable Ned, believing in everyone and everything to their fullest. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned," I say, looking up to him and cupping his cheek with my hand. "But it cannot change a man's nature."

**Sorry for the long break between updates. School. Ugh.**


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